Some Love Is Not Really Love At All
by BarackandRoll28
Summary: Four years after Jude told Tommy and a packed audience that she would be relocating to London solo, Tommy's long ailing mother dies. Jude flies back home to offer help, but do she and Tommy still need or want each other the way they used to?
1. Chapter 1

Tom hated August. He hated how it was still the summer, but that it was never actually warm enough to do any summer activities. He hated the fact that the leaves started changing as early as this month, telling him that fall was no longer just around the corner, but it was here. Most of all, he hated the feeling he got when it came to be August, the squeezing feeling on his heart like he was saying good-bye to someone he loved. And Tom had done enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.

He got up off the couch where he'd been watching the impending storm roll in and trudged over into the kitchen. It was piled high with dishes that desperately needed to be washed. He used to have a maid, but for some reason he had told her to stop coming. He couldn't remember why now, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. With a sigh, Tom started running the hot water and soaping up the dishes. He wasn't even halfway through them when the rain started slamming in waves against the window. Tom shut the water off in the sink and headed out on his balcony.

Taking in a deep breath, Tom shut his eyes. It was easier to remember that way, with his eyes closed. The rain washed over him as he inhaled again, recalling the floral scent of her shampoo mixed with the perfume she'd been wearing that was way too adult for her sixteen years. It hadn't been their first kiss, actually their second. But it had been the first time that he'd let down his defenses, let go of his strong image and showed her his weakness. It had only been a matter of time, really, since his weakness was her. And she'd been so…so desperate that night. Not in a sad way, really. She just wanted someone to tell her that she was perfect, that there was nothing wrong with her. She wanted someone who loved everything about her, from her fire colored hair to her blue painted fingernails; from her big blue eyes to the fact that she always had calluses on her hands from her guitar; from her voice that made his heart stop for two minutes at a time to the way she glared at him when she was frustrated; from her sense of humor to her heart that was always trying to make everyone happy. And Tom had loved all of those things about her. Standing in the rain helped him to remember that part, the part before things had gotten so complicated that even he had a hard time remembering exactly what had happened. He liked to remember the part before it started hurting.

Tom was snapped out of his memories by his phone buzzing in his pocket. Grabbing it, he held his breath before slowly pulling it out of his pocket. When he looked down, he sighed and shook his head. When was he going to stop hoping that every phone call was her? "Hello?"

"Tommy. It's Trist."

Tom headed back inside the house. His older brother hardly ever called him, and to be completely honest, Tom didn't really have any problem with that. They'd never really gotten along, with Tristan always being the golden boy and Tom the black sheep. Even when he'd gotten famous with the band, had a record go platinum, toured the world, he still couldn't do anything right. "Yeah?" Tom asked, shutting the back door behind him and walking back into the kitchen.

Tristan paused. "I just wanted to call you…I don't know if you already know…"

"If I already know what, Tristan?" Tom snapped. When his whole world had fallen apart, Tom had vowed to work on his temper. Well, four years later he was still a hot head. Well, he'd thought that a lot of things were going to change in four years, and his life was basically the same, so the fact that he still couldn't stand any member of his family wasn't really a surprise.

"Mom died."

Tom waited for it to hit him. He waited to feel sad. When it didn't come, he asked a question, relieved when his voice came out scratchy. "When?" he asked.

"This morning."

"How?"

"She just…went. In her sleep," Tristan explained.

Yeah, right. More like she'd swallowed a fistful of Ambien and went down for a nap that she would never wake up from. That combined with all of the other meds she was on had been a recipe for disaster, one that Tom didn't want to stick around for and that his mother certainly didn't want him witnessing. "Oh," was all that Tom found he had to say.

"The funeral is in two days. I just wanted to let you know in case you wanted to come home. I told everyone else that you probably wouldn't."

"Nice Tristan, tell the whole family that I won't come to my own mother's funeral."

"Yeah, because they thought so highly of you already."

"I'll see you in two days," Tom said with finality and hung up the phone.

He probably should have felt something. Maybe his legs should have been shaking. Maybe he should have felt a heaviness in his heart. He might have even wanted to cry. But he didn't feel any different than he had before the call. So instead of crying, or sitting down, Tom kept washing the dishes, listening to the rain.


	2. Chapter 2

"_I couldn't do it," she said, standing on his front porch in New Brunswick. Her blue eyes were nervous, her face was searching for him to say that it was okay, that he'd missed her._ _And he had_.

Tom jerked awake on the plane as it touched back down on the tarmac. His heart was still racing from his dream. Looking out the window he saw the runway of the airport and rubbed his eyes. Last time he'd been here, he'd nearly ruined everything. And he'd gotten a phone call from her sister, who was worried about her. "She said you said it was over, but that she didn't believe you. She's been working non-stop, it's unhealthy, Tommy." Tommy hadn't really believed it was over, either. He was sad and everything, but they'd been there before. He'd ruined things countless times and still, after all that, he made her heart swell, he made a smile spread over her face, no matter how mad she was at him. And that's what he'd believed four years ago. There was no way this was forever. But this time it looked like she was serious.

The plane came to a full and complete stop and Tom unbuckled his seat belt while the flight attendants handed out moist towels. He declined his and grabbed his bag from underneath the seat in front of him before heading off the plane. Walking through the terminal, Tom remembered why he hated airports so much. They were over air conditioned, and they all looked the same. There was a newsstand, a place selling luggage, a kiosk selling cell phones. Tom put his sunglasses on even though he was inside and outside was overcast. He didn't want to risk anyone recognizing him here, not now.

He reached the cabstand and threw his singular carry on into the trunk. He'd only brought the one small suitcase and the suit he'd be wearing tomorrow. He didn't plan on staying long after the funeral. Tom had the distinct feeling that Tristan would have some smartass response to this, about how he always had to clean up after Mom, about how all Tom ever did was turn his back on them. But Tom had come to terms with that years ago, and he was surprisingly okay with his role as the abandoner.

The cab pulled up the gravel driveway to his mother's house and Tom let out a sigh. He wasn't even sure why he'd chosen to come back. So his mother had died, who cared? He hadn't even spoken with her in the four years since he'd last been here. What difference did it make to him? But before Tom could tell the cab driver to turn around and go back to the airport, his cousin Soleena came outside. Seeing the cab there, and Tom in the backseat, she didn't smile. Instead she just leaned against one of the columns on the front porch and stared at him, like she was waiting for what was going to happen next. Well, Tom couldn't blame her for that.

Tom opened paid the driver and got his bag out of the trunk before bringing it up the front steps. All he could think of to say to Soleena was, "Hi."

"Hi," she said back, giving him a once over. "You look…older."

Tom knew what she meant. He had dark circles under his eyes from four years of barely sleeping. His skin was pasty and white, and he didn't even want to think about the state of his hair that he used to take so much care of. "Thanks," he replied snidely, pushing past her and heading into the house.

Tristan was sitting at the kitchen table with his old friends, Mike and Kyle, playing poker. Tom wasn't surprised. "Hi guys."

The three of them hardly looked up. "Hey."

Tom ran his tongue across his top teeth and nodded before going back to his old room. It was exactly how he'd left it when he was fifteen, only with a few more boxes of stuff in there. His mother and older brother had obviously been using Tom's room for storage, and this might have made Tom mad a few years ago, but they had good reason to assume that he was never coming back. Once he'd set his bag on his bed and hung up his suit, he headed back out to the kitchen.

"So, you gonna get arrested this time?" Tristan asked with a smirk.

The last time Tommy had been home, he'd started a fight with Mike and Kyle. And it had all been about her. Thinking about how petty and stupid that must all seem now, Tom wanted to grimace, but he held it in. "Maybe."

The three guys chuckled. Tom stood in the kitchen, watching them silently play poker. He was glad to see that Tristan had more or less the same reaction as he did, which was no reaction at all.

Soleena entered the kitchen then and looked at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Tom looked away from her, grabbing his jacket. "I'm going for a walk," he told no one in particular, and left the house.

"Hey, wait," Soleena called, jogging up to him.

Tom turned around. "What?" he asked.

Soleena opened her mouth and then closed it. "I just…um…I thought I had something to tell you, but I guess I forgot."

Tom gave her a skeptical look. "Okay…thanks," he nodded, turning his back on her and walking away.


	3. Chapter 3

The day of his mother's funeral, Tom couldn't get that song out of his head. They'd written a lot of songs together, but this was the only one that he'd sang on, recorded with her. "Am I headed for disaster? Am I forgetting what I know? Or am I afraid instead of letting go?" Tom shook his head, tying his tie in front of the mirror. It felt like things should have been so different. The reason he was here was under completely different circumstances, and four years had passed. Things should have been different, very different. Or at least felt that way. But instead he felt exactly the same; like he didn't want anyone to see him here.

Tom got into the town car that was taking them to the cemetery with Tristan and Soleena. No one said anything as they drove to the cemetery. Tristan probably felt awkward without Mike and Kyle around. They'd been more like brothers to him than Tom had, so he couldn't blame him for having nothing to say. Soleena kept looking at Tom like he might collapse at any moment, and he couldn't figure out why. Tom had never broken down in front of any member of his family. Gotten mad, yeah. Yelled, yeah. But the last time he'd broken down had been four years ago, and that had only been in front of someone who he was sure he'd never see again.

The three of them got out of the car when they got to the cemetery. Tom was surprised to see that there were even a few photographers there, members of the paprazzi. At a funeral of a washed up musician? The papers must have been dry this week, he thought as he made his way to their family's plot. A few people offered him kind smiles or even told them how sorry they were. None of them seemed to think it was strange that he was there, or at least they didn't voice that opinion to him. Tom stood by the priest, in between Tristan and Soleena and spent most of the ceremony looking at his shoes. He'd thought that the sight of the coffin would bring about some emotion, some reality that his mother was dead. But he still felt the same way, which was exactly the same as he'd felt three days ago. He hadn't realized it before now, but maybe he'd been at rock bottom. Maybe he'd felt so miserable that this news couldn't possibly make him feel any worse.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want," the priest started, and Tommy bit down on his lower lip. "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake." Tom inhaled a sharp breath and frowned, getting the feeling that someone was staring at him. Slowly, trying to get his heart to stop racing because it was his mother's funeral, and this was not the time or place for this, he lifted his head. And all of a sudden he was drowning.

_"What's so wrong with me that not one of you will date me?"_

_"You save a look just for me."_

_"I'll never regret picking you, Tommy Q."_

_"I know that rocks turn to sand / and hearts can change hands / and you're not to blame / when the sky fills with rain / but if we stay or walk away / there's one thing that's true / I still love you."_

Tom felt his heart dissolve in his chest. He couldn't swallow - his mouth was dry, his tongue felt like sandpaper and his cheeks felt like cotton. The air squeezed out of his lungs. Water was rising up to his mouth, choking him. He'd die soon, and it would be okay, because he was staring at eyes, her eyes the color of ice.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over."

_"But that's not where my head's at anymore. So thank you for holding my hand. And for letting me go."_

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever."

Tom was rooted to the spot where he stood. The other attendants at his mother's funeral headed for their cars. They were having a reception at a restaurant of a country club. Tom didn't know that people did that for funerals, but apparently they did. He wasn't sure who had set it up, he doubted Tristan had, but that wasn't his problem at the moment. His problem was that he was having trouble lifting one foot and placing it in front of the other.

Finally, there was no one else around. He could hear the clicking of paparazzi far away, imagining the headline of tomorrow's tabloid headlines. Finally, she stepped forward. He did, too. They met in the middle behind the flower arrangements at the head of his mother's coffin. The men who were going to burry her had already started lowering her coffin into the hole in the ground. They weren't taking notice of the fact that Tom was having trouble simply existing in the same space as her.

For what seemed like an excruciating amount of time, Tom looked into her ice eyes. They looked like the inside of a glacier, but for some reason they made him feel more at home than being in his actual hometown. Suddenly, he felt like he couldn't stand anymore. His legs wouldn't support the rest of his body. He had to say something, fast, but the air had been sucked from the space between him and he couldn't choke any of the words out.

Finally, she parted her full lips and spoke. "I really didn't want to be the first one to talk," she said.

It was only after that, after hearing her beautiful voice that he remembered the last time they'd seen each other. About how she'd told an audience full of people that their relationship was over before she'd even told him. About how he'd stood there with a bouquet full of roses just for her. About how he'd been planning on packing up his whole life to be there…_for_ her. And she'd thrown it all away. "What do you want me to say, Jude?"

She shrugged. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that." Jude surveyed her surroundings before speaking up again. "You could try asking me why I'm here, Tommy."

"Okay," he agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here, Jude?"

"I…I heard about your mom. I guess I stopped by to see if you were…okay?"

Tom let out a hollow laugh. "Last time I checked, that wasn't your job anymore," he said, looking away from her.

Jude stepped into his line of vision. "Last time I checked it was never my job, Tommy. I wanted to…you're my friend. This is what friends do, check up on each other."

"Oh really? Then you need to clear up your definition of friends, Jude, because I didn't think that friends were people who don't talk for four years."

"That's a two-way street, Tommy. You never picked up my calls and you certainly never called me."

"Why would I want to?"

"You know what, Tommy, I thought that maybe after four years we could put all this behind us, and be friends? But I guess you just can't handle that right now."

"Be friends? After you turned your back and walked away from me?" he asked, his voice beginning to rise to a yell. To his surprise, the men burying his mom didn't even look up.

"Oh, okay Tommy. I was confused about _one_ thing, _once_, and now you're mad at me? I'm sorry, but I seem to recall a lot of memories of me watching the back of your shirt. How many times, huh, Tommy? Wait, let me count. There was my sweet sixteen. And then you _dated my sister_. There was the end of my second album, my _seventeenth birthday party_."

"And those were all for your protection."

Jude opened her mouth to say something, probably spit something else hurtful back at him, something else that was sure to sting. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and took another step towards him. There were only inches between them as Jude squinted up to search his eyes with her own. She looked even more beautiful up close. "Well what if I'm not the one who needs protecting this time, Tommy?"

It would have been easy. He could have mustered up some tears and opened his arms to her. She would have welcomed him back into hers as he rested his chin on her shoulder, told her how miserable he'd been. That last part would have been true, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to her, or himself. Not again. So instead he took a few steps backwards, away from her. "Believe it or not, Jude, I've found some way to function for the past four years without you in my life. Good bye."

As Tom headed back to the car, he felt her eyes trained on his back. He'd learned how to sense that by now.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom didn't know any of these people, and from the look on Tristan's face, he didn't know many of them, either. Soleena seemed to be doing a good job receiving them. All that job really included was nodding sullenly, Tom gathered. It wasn't until the end of the gathering that she came up behind him. "So you talked to her?"

Tom jumped from the table of refreshments the club had laid out. Some of the coffee he'd been pouring spilled over the rim of the cup, scalding his hand. He swore and grabbed a napkin before glaring at her. "What?"

Soleena put her hands on her hips. "You talked to her. Jude."

"How did you know she was here?" Tom asked.

With a shrug, Soleena casually answered, "She called me."

"She _called _you? She called _you_?" Tom asked twice. The first one was due to the shock that Jude had called anyone, and the second that she'd called Soleena. "How did she even get your number?"

"I don't know, Tommy, she's a millionaire. She can do whatever she wants." All Tom could do was shake her head. "Anyway. She called me when she heard about your mom. She asked if there was anything she could do to help. I thought…"

Her voice trailed off and Tom raised his eyebrows. "You thought what, Soleena?" he snapped.

"I thought she might be able to help you, Tommy."

"Why does everybody think that I need help all of sudden? My mom dies so I'm some innocent victim? I don't know where you've been for the last four years, but I've been in the city…nowhere around here, not talking to my mother."

Soleena snorted. "Yeah okay Tommy. That's why I thought you needed help, because of your mom. Please. You don't give a shit about your family, we all knew that."

"So then what do I need help with?" Tom asked, genuinely curious as to what Soleena would say.

She looked up at him through her black bangs. "You look like a corpse, Tommy," she pointed out just slightly above a whisper. Her voice sounded like she was delivering the news of someone who had died, like she didn't want to tell him, but she had to. And she wouldn't meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare at the space behind his left shoulder. And Tommy got the message. Soleena didn't think that he was torn up about his mom, or that he was uncomfortable being home. She knew that, for the past four years, he'd been walking around like he was wearing someone else's skin, with such a big part of himself missing that he didn't even know himself anymore.

"I'm fine," Tommy lied in a quiet voice. Soleena scoffed and shook her head. "I'm fine," he insisted again before walking away from her.

"You must be Tom," a short man in a cheap suit said, stepping into his line of vision.

"Uh…yeah," he said, looking around the room. Who was this guy?

"I'm Lon Goldbloome, your mother's attorney. I was just going to tell your brother that we were ready to review her will," he said. When Tom just gave him a blank stare, he continued. "Go over the division of assets?"

Tom shook his head. "Oh yeah, right. Of course. I'll tell him," he offered, walking over to where Tristan was ordering his third gin on the rocks from the bartender. "The lawyer said he's ready for us." Tristan just let out a grunt to let Tom know that he'd heard him. "I don't know if we really need to do all this. She obviously left everything to you."

Trist took a swig of his gin. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Tom was about to ask him what he was talking about when Tristan started walking towards the lawyer. Lon Goldbloome led the boys to a small room off of the conference room where the reception was taking place. It was about the size of a broom closet and Tom felt kind of uncomfortable being in there with the two of them. "Okay," Lon said, pulling a stack of papers out of a briefcase that he'd placed on the tiny desk in the room. "Tristan and I have talked all of his over, and it seems that financially all of your mother's assets have been handed down to him," he informed the boys. Tom let out a chuckle. No surprise there. "Now, about her house. Tom, she seems to have left that to you."

Tom let out a loud cough that turned into a series of loud coughs. "What?" he wheezed.

"It says right here that she left her house to you," Lon repeated, pointing to the part of the will that stipulated that Tom owned the house. "Now, if that is an unwanted asset, you can sign the deed over to your brother. You can do that right now, in fact."

Tom chewed on his bottom lip and looked at Tristan, who was showing no emotion. They both knew that Tom hated that house. He hated the mayonnaise colored walls. He hated the leak in the kitchen sink that made it drip all night. He hated the whirring sound that the refrigerator made, and he hated the way the toilet flushed. Everything about that house reminded Tom of his childhood, of his mother, of what his life had been when he was nobody but the black sheep of the entire town. So in that regard, if Tom held onto the house, it would seem like he was doing it just out of spite. But their mother's other sicknesses combined with her Alzheimer's had turned her into a packrat. The house was full of junk that needed to be thrown out before they could sell it, or before anyone could comfortably live in it. So on that hand, if Tom signed the house over to Tristan, it would look like he was leaving him with this huge burden.

Sighing, Tom rubbed the migraine that had taken up residence between his eyes. "Alright. Um…can I have a few days to sleep on it?" he asked.

"Of course. I understand that right now is a trying time for you and your family, so take as much time as you need," Lon told them solemnly and left the room.

"What are you doing, Tommy?" Tristan asked once the door was closed. "That house is your last tie to us. You sign it over to me and you've got no reason to ever have to speak to us ever again."

"Shut up, Tristan, for five seconds, okay?" Tom snapped. He knew that Tristan had meant what he'd said, and he meant it in the nicest way possible. Signing the house over to Tristan would have been a way out. And Tom had wanted a way out, a way to get away from his mother, from the town that had branded him the outcast. But not from Soleena or Tristan. Was that was Tristan thought he wanted? To have nothing to do with him anymore? "We have to clear the house out."

"Yeah," Tristan slowly agreed.

"I'll stay. I'll help you and Soleena do all that. And then I'll figure out what to do." Tom looked back up at Tristan, who was staring at him in surprise.

"Okay," his older brother agreed. "That sounds…okay."


	5. Chapter 5

"I know you wanna leave me, but I refuse to let you go," Tom heard, blinking awake. He sat up slowly, feeling all of the muscles in his back and vertebrae contract. He guessed that mattresses lost some of their spring as time passed, because it had been one of the worst sleeps of his life. But being woken up by the Temptations wasn't so bad, Tom thought as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He reached his arms over his head, stretching as far as he could go, hearing his back crack. Damn. He was getting old. Tom would be passing the big three-oh in two years, and worked very hard to keep all of his brown hair a) brown and b) on his head.

He put on the same jeans he'd worn here and a white Ed Hardy shirt before heading outside. To his surprise, Soleena was making pancakes while Tristan, Mike, and Kyle all sorted out their mother's belongings. Tom watched them for a while before anyone noticed he was there. Soleena saw him first, flipping two pancakes onto a plate and handing it to him. Tom opened his mouth to say thank you, or ask her what was going on, but she walked away, placing more pancakes onto three more plates and setting them down at the kitchen table. "Breakfast, boys," she called to Trist, Mike, and Kyle, who all sat down at the table. Soleena turned down the music and sat with them, too.

"So, what's our plan for today?" she asked.

"We're working on the living room right now, putting stuff into piles. We're gonna donate all of her clothes, and then she's got books and stuff that we can either keep or bring to the library," Tristan told her.

Tom couldn't decide if they were trying to make him a part of things or just pretending like he wasn't there, but either way he let them keep talking, forcing himself to take small bites of pancake as to not offend Soleena.

"We're going to need garbage bags and cardboard boxes for that stuff," Soleena pointed out. "And maybe some plastic bins for the things we want to keep?" The guys all agreed. "Tom and I can get that stuff, right Tommy?" she asked.

The guys and Soleena all looked to him. Tom felt like he was making a decision about whether or not to pull the plug on someone. They were all waiting for this one answer. Somehow, this had become the deciding factor of how the next few days, and maybe even the rest of his relationship with his old friends, would go. "Yeah," he nodded. "That'd be fine."

Soleena smiled and the guys nodded before the five of them went back to eating and discussing his mother's belongings. Tom was putting everyone's dishes in the sink when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Soleena called over the music that they'd turned back up. Tom had forgotten, but it was his mom's old Motown record. She used to put it on when they were cleaning the house, so it only seemed right to be listening to it now. He heard Soleena talking to someone and once he'd put the dishes in the dishwasher, he headed to the front door.

Tom wasn't really surprised to see Jude standing there, a stack of folded up cardboard boxes under her arm, talking with Soleena. When she saw him standing there, the conversation stopped. Soleena turned around and gave him a look like she was a little kid who'd gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Oh. Tommy. Um…Jude asked if there was anything she could do to help, so I told her we needed some stuff. I thought we could always use an extra set of hands?" she said. Tom wasn't sure if she'd meant the last part as a question, but it had come out that way. And he was kind of getting bored with all of these big decisions falling on him.

"Yeah. That's fine," he shrugged.

"Great," Jude smiled, stepping to one side to reveal an SUV parked in the gravel driveway stacked with industrial sized garbage cans, plastic storage bins, and more cardboard boxes. "I came prepared."

Tom just shrugged. "Whatever," he said, turning around and walking away.

For most of the day he managed to avoid Jude entirely. Actually, he didn't really spend a lot of time with anyone. Tristan, Mike, and Kyle seemed to be having a fairly good time, considering what they were doing, so Tom mostly hung back and let them do their thing while he threw things in the garbage or folded clothes to be donated. Jude had pioneered the sorting of Tom's mother's vinyl collection, stopping every once in a while to put on a new record.

Tom had moved from the living room back to the hallway, going through boxes and boxes of stuff that, for some reason, his mother had felt the need to keep. There was silence for a few minutes before Tom noticed that the music had gone off. He ventured back into the living room to see what was going on and found Jude sitting at the piano, playing it even though it was grossly out of tune. Tom leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, watching as she picked out a tune that he remembered.

"I could say that I don't care,  
"but the truth is, I'd follow you anywhere.  
"I've been waiting such a long, long time.  
"Don' youo dare change your mind..."

Mostly to stop her from playing the song, he spoke up.

"Where'd everyone go?" he asked.

Jude jumped, startled by his appearance. "Oh. Hi. The guys went to grab pizza for lunch and Soleena was dropping off a load of clothes," she explained. Tom didn't really have anywhere to go from there. Jude looked down at the piano. "Is it okay, that I'm playing this?" she asked.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I don't think anyone has in years."

Jude looked back up at him, a smile playing on her face before she struck some more familiar chords on the piano. "I was adrift on an ocean, all alone," she sang. When she saw Tom struggling to fight the smile off his face, she continued. "You came and rescued me when I was far from home."

Tom made his way through piles of papers, clothes, and VHS tapes on the floor to join her on the piano bench. "A rush of love around my heart, just as I fell apart," he joined in.

Jude giggled and they continued. "Nobody's ever cared as much for me.  
"Nobody's touched my heart and healed my pain.  
"You picked up the pieces, and put me back together again."

Tom felt his brain jumping back five years, saw the interior of the private school he'd brought Jude to, the place where he'd practiced days on end to get into Boys Attack. It was Jude's idea, to make an album in all different places, Tommy thought mostly to avoid being cooped up in a studio all day and night. That was after Patsy had died, and Jude had been all about making the most of every moment, no regrets. His brain had been so scattered that day, but even at the end of everything, he knew that she was what he wanted. They'd ended up in a little church, with Jude playing one of the numerous songs she'd written about him. To be honest, Tommy never got tired of hearing those songs. And it wasn't because he was a narcissist who liked to hear things about himself. But it was because those songs assured him that, no matter what happened, he and Jude would always come back to each other. They had that day, him pulling her into a kiss that he could feel all the way down to his toes, a kiss that he could remember like it was happening to him again this very moment…

Tom was snapped back to the present when he felt heat on his thigh and looked down. Jude's hand was there. He looked up, into her pale blue eyes…it would be so easy, to just lean in…

No, he had to think of something. He couldn't do this to her again. His heart was pounding and his palms were starting to sweat before he shot out, "What are you doing here, Jude?" and stood up off the piano bench.

Jude blinked up at him. "I'm helping. I thought…didn't we already go over this?" she asked with a small smile.

"Fine, help. But don't try to be all…friendly," he said the word with a hint of disgust that he hadn't meant to be there.

Catching the snarled word, Jude shook her head. "Yeah, okay," she surrendered. "We're not friends. If that's what you want."

Tom glared at her. "Don't turn this around on me, this is what you want."

"Really? Is it? And how do you know that, Tommy, because I don't remember you asking me," she pointed out. "I'm here, aren't I? I'm trying."

"Trying to what?" he snapped.

"To make things right. To make this okay again," Jude told him, standing up so that they were closer to being eye-level.

Tom crossed his arms back over his chest. "Who says that things have to be made right?" he asked in a low tone.

Jude opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times. Tom was sure that he was pushing all the right buttons. This was the part when she was supposed to get mad, for her eyes to well up with tears, and for him to feel like a total jackass. They'd gotten into these fights thousands of times. Tom knew how to get the reaction he wanted. But instead of calling him out, she just touched a hand to her chest and calmly explained, "Tommy, I feel awful about the way things ended between us. I just wanted…I guess I wanted to know that you forgave me."

"And why should I do that?" he asked.

Oh, there it was. It happened one muscle at a time. Her jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists, her eyes narrowed. "How many times did I forgive you, Tommy?" she yelled. "You always got your chance! You walked away from me every day for years! And I _always_ took you back!"

"Oh please, that's not even true!" Tom retorted. "There was the time you and Sadie just made up, in your head, that I'd cheated on her. Or that time when you just assumed that I had some illegitimate love child. You stayed mad at me for months!"

"Do we really need to take it there?" Jude asked. "Because I could just remind you that you _dated my sister_ and _disappeared_!" She stopped yelling for a few seconds, taking several deep breaths. "We already had this conversation yesterday," she recalled.

Tom nodded. "Yeah, we did."

Jude raised her arms in a defeated shrug. "Well Tommy, I'm here. What do you want me to do? I can leave the stuff here and go, or I can stay and help. I'll do whatever you want."

Tom thought about this. He could tell her to leave, or he could ask her to stay. If this were four years ago, he would probably have told her to leave, because he'd been immature and would have wanted to hurt her. But it was four years later. Tom wanted Jude to leave, but not because he wanted to hurt her. Because he didn't want either of them to get hurt, and all that would happen if she stayed was that they'd make some bad decisions and go back to hurting each other for the next few years. They'd played this game, and as much as it killed Tom to admit it, maybe he and Jude just weren't right for each other. If they were, wouldn't they have gotten it together by now?

"You should probably be getting back home anyway. It's a long flight to London," he noted.

Jude blinked. "Yeah. I should probably be getting back home. To London," she agreed, and with a sigh she nodded. "I'll unload the rest of the stuff."

"Yeah. I'll help you," Tom offered. The two of them unloaded the contents of her car and Jude turned to him. "It's not you, Jude," Tom assured her, surprised that he'd been able to force out the words. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for more of a response. "It's just…too late."

Jude swallowed and nodded slowly. "I guess you're right, Tommy," she said, and turned to get back in her car. Just as Tom had taken a step back, however, she whirled back around and threw her arms around his neck. He was shocked for a few moments before he took a deep breath in and wrapped his arms around her waist.

It wasn't until then that Tom really understood. This wasn't Jude anymore, or at least, not how he'd known her. She used to smell so sweet, like the floral shampoo she used, and the fruity perfume. And she used to feel fragile when he wrapped his arms around her like he was doing now. It always seemed like she was clinging onto him for support. But not now. When he breathed in, he could feel his heart squeeze a little, because the scent of her perfume had changed to a slightly spicy, but still sweet scent, more for a woman than a girl. And she felt different when she hugged him, too. Less like a lover and more like a friend. Tom thought that was a good thing. Jude was an adult now, and this realization only made him even surer that he was doing the right thing. Jude deserved a fair chance at a normal adult life, and she couldn't have that with him.

"Take care of yourself, Tommy," she told him, her lips grazing his cheek, before she got back into her car and drove away.

Tom watched her go before noticing Tristan's car heading back up the driveway. The guys got out and went inside, but Soleena stopped, giving Tom a once over. "What are you doing out here? Where's Jude?" she asked.

Tom shrugged. "She had to get going," he told her.

Soleena gave him a skeptical look. "You didn't say anything to her, did you?" she asked.

"God, Soleena, I'm not twenty-four anymore," he snapped. "I didn't do anything. Why would you just assume that I wigged out on her?" Soleena raised her eyebrows to indicate the obvious; he was wigging out on her right now. "Okay, I get it. Honestly, she just had to catch a flight back home." Soleena seemed content with this answer and headed inside. Tom did, too, fighting the urge to check over his shoulder whether or not Jude would turn around and come back. Deep down in his heart, he'd always known she wouldn't.


	6. Chapter 6

It was three in the afternoon when Tom finally made it back to the office. He'd sorted everything out with Tristan, and Tom was keeping the house. They both knew, but didn't say out loud, that the reason he'd kept the house was because he was trying to hold onto their relationship. Tristan didn't seem to have any problem with it, and when Tom had left it had been with the promise that Trist would call him soon. To expect their relationship to suddenly be perfect would be a little naïve, Tom knew, but little by little he thought they had margin for improvement.

That being said, he was glad to be back in the city, back at work, doing what he was supposed to be doing. Just the sound of the G Major offices made Tom feel warmer inside; the ringing phones, the practicing artists, the yells of Darius Mills coming from his office. Tom grinned and walked past, knocking a hello on the door. "Wait," Darius called, and Tom stopped, rolling his eyes. "Kate, I'll call you back," he heard Darius say before he opened the thick oak doors to his office and beckoned for Tom to come inside. "So, you're back," he said as he sat behind his huge desk and Tom took the chair across from it.

"Yup," he nodded.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Darius said, and Tom all but rolled his eyes. Darius had made it very clear to him that he'd used up all of his paid time-off during the summer, and that he wouldn't be getting paid for the days he was missing, as if his financial situation was the first thing on Tom's mind.

"Don't worry about it," he sarcastically assured Darius.

"I've got you working with Karma today, and then we've got a meeting after to talk about Instant Star Universe," he reminded Tom.

Tom looked around the office, bored. "Okay," he said slowly. "Sounds fine. Is that all?"

Darius shrugged. "Yeah. What else would there be?"

Frowning, Tom gave Darius a scrutinizing look. "I don't know. You told me to come in here," he pointed out.

Darius just gave another shrug. "Guess you're finished then."

Still frowning, Tom got up and headed out of the office into Studio B. It was the biggest, best-equipped studio, reserved for the best artist/producer teams at G Major. Karma, the third winner of the Instant Star contest who had blown up over the years due to her adamant will to stay in the tabloids, was already warming up behind the glass. When she saw Tom, she looked up and waved. Tom pressed the button so that she could hear him in the other room. "Hi, Karma."

"How was the funeral?" she asked, and Tom was kind of surprised that she even cared. Karma wasn't known for being the most caring person on the planet.

With a shrug, Tom just answered, "It was okay." He wasn't about to open up to Karma about his relationship with his family, and her certainly wasn't inclined to tell her about what had happened with Jude. The real tragedy of all of it was probably the fact that Karma was just about the only person who even cared enough to ask, and not only that, but she was genuinely interested. "Darius just reminded me about this Instant Star Universe meeting. Are you judging?"

"Yeah, I guess," Karma rolled her eyes. "But come on. Honestly, this thing in lame."

Tom shrugged with a grin. Karma would give her eyeteeth if it meant getting more attention from the press. If she saw a problem with this thing, it said a lot about how low Darius was stooping. "I won't argue with you about that," he answered, starting to put CD's into the machine that would record them and starting up the drum beat to lay down behind Karma's vocals.

"So you talked to Darius? I guess he told you about Jude then."

Tom's finger hovered over the button to start up the music into Karma's headphones. "What?" he asked slowly.

Karma winced. "Oh, crap."

Opening the door to the control room and going next door to the sound room, he took few, wide paces so that he and Karma were face to face. Karma was a drama queen, and she used to be very cut-throat. She was still all about being dramatic and the center of attention, but she'd softened a little bit since her marriage to a former G Major recording artist (and one of Jude's ex-boyfriends) Speed. Karma had definitely spilled the beans, but she wouldn't lie to Tom now that the secret was already out. "What about Jude?"

"There may be a very small possibility that she's coming back to G Major…and that she's in the building…right now." Furious, Tom let out a frustrated sigh that sounded more like a growl. Karma frowned. "What was that noise? Because it didn't sound like my Grammy-nominated producer," she said, her frown turning into a grin as she gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

Tom held a hand up, warning her to stop anymore contact with him. Karma shrank back. "I'm sorry I said anything. I thought you already knew. You're not gonna…get all squinty and brooding now, are you? We're still working on the record, right?"

"Did you just tell me that Jude Harrison is back at G Major and that she's in the building right now?" he repeated, rubbing the migraine between his eyes.

"I said small possibility and I don't know if she's here now. She was earlier today. And it's just a rumor. But I know that she was talking to Darius about something." Always one for gossip, Karma's eyes lit up. "You know, if you wanted more info, I could ask Speedy. He still talks to her like, every day."

Looking out through the glass doors of the sound room, Tom shook his head. "I've got a better idea," he told her, opening the door and heading across the hall. He pushed open the heavy door to the manager's office and ignored the heavy metal band that was in a meeting with her. "Why didn't you tell me about any of this?" he barked at Sadie.

Always cool, Sadie looked up at Tom through her blonde bangs and raised her eyebrows. "Oh, guys, this is one of G Major's most talented producers, Tom Quincy."

One of the band members who looked like his last shower had been with the Nixon administration glared up at Tom. "Like, from Boys Attack?"

Normally, Tom would have corrected the guy, but that wasn't the point. "Where is she, Sadie?"

Sadie ran her tongue over her top teeth and clenched her jaw. "Is this something we have to talk about now, or can we do it over lunch?"

"Sorry, I already ate."

Sadie glared at Tom once more before flashing her winning smile at the band. "I'm sorry guys, you wait here for just a minute and I'll be back. Tom, outside," she requested, nodding her head in the direction of the door. As soon as she and Tom were out in the hall and she'd shut the door to her office, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you doing? Can you not see that I am working?" she hissed.

"Everyone's working, Sadie. You think this is convenient for me?" Tom said, wishing for the days when Sadie was still young and a little afraid of him. She was too naïve to mouth of to him then. She also hadn't been his boss. "You should have told me about Jude."

"So that you could what?" Sadie snapped, throwing her arms in the air. "Get moody for the next four weeks and worry about something that doesn't really matter in the long run? I was supposed to give you time to torture yourself? Okay, then sorry that I didn't do that, I'll try harder next time."

Tom didn't say anything to Sadie, but his demeanor softened. Sadie wasn't like Darius, or really anyone in the business. It hadn't gotten to her soul yet. Her friends were still her friends and what was right was still right. She didn't try to be manipulative or conniving, and it was probably part of the reason she'd moved up so far on the G Major ladder…and the other part was probably because she was dating Darius.

Sadie let her guard down a little bit, too. Letting out a sigh, she asked, "How'd you find out?"

"Karma," Tom answered.

Sadie snorted. "Figures."

"She thought I knew already," he told Sadie. "It wasn't her fault." Looking from the office to the walls to the lobby, Tom's eyes finally rested on Sadie. "Is it true?" he asked.

She took in a long, deep breath before answering him. "Nothing's definite yet," Sadie explained slowly. "We don't know anything for sure. Jude came back to make an offer to Darius about getting the rights to her bootlegs, and he offered her another contract, since her one over in London is expiring."

"Why would she even consider that?" Tom asked. "She's way too big for G Major."

With an eye roll, Sadie scoffed, "Gee, I don't know what would ever make her come back here. Let's consider our options." She gave him a once over and then nodded. "Yeah, I think I have an idea."

Tom frowned. "What? No, that's not…that's not even happening anymore," he assured Sadie. It occurred to him to ask Sadie if Jude had told her what had happened in New Brunswick, but he figured that she more than likely had.

Softening again, Sadie let out a sigh. "I should get back in there. But…I'm sorry Tom, really. I should have told you. But I…I guess I didn't want things to get messy," Sadie gave in.

Tom shook his head. "No it's…that's fine," he assured her.

Before turning back into her office, Sadie gave Tom a serious look. "Just…think really hard before you go do anything, okay?" she requested.

Tom nodded, but his mind was already jumping ahead, onto who he wanted to shout at next. "Yeah, of course," he lied to Sadie. "Definitely not going to do anything impulsive."


	7. Chapter 7

"Andrews!"

From the kitchen upstairs, Tom could hear the noises coming from the basement. A roughly recorded demo that sounded like Speed was playing, but on top of that was conversation dominated by deep male voices, punctuated by high-pitched female laughter. Heading down the stairs, Tom found the all of the usual suspects. Sitting in old armchairs and couches was Speed, Karma's husband, Pagan Smith, rock god extraordinaire, his daughter, Zeppelin, and Jamie Andrews. A year before Jude had left for London, Jamie had started an independent record label. Because of Jamie's unique ability to get people to feel bad for him, he'd somehow gotten Pagan Smith to sign onto his label, and Speed had quickly followed when his contract with Jude and G Major had expired. These two acts were pretty big names, and Jamie was in no real rush to find new talent, since he didn't have to. But everyone knew that, if he wanted to, he could really give G Major a run for their money. Tom had never really liked Jamie, but he wouldn't mind seeing someone take down Darius.

Jamie looked up at him and greeted him with an arrogant, "What?" A few years ago Jamie would have made some smart ass comment, and quickly followed it up with an apology for fear of Tom kicking his ass. But now there was no comment, and certainly no intimidation. Just a pretty strong dislike.

"Did you know?" Tom asked, cutting to the chase.

Jamie grinned, crossing his arms behind his head. "Know what?" he asked smugly. He was loving every minute of this.

"Don't be an ass Jamie, I swear to God I'll punch you right in the face." Tom didn't have time for this.

Jamie might not have been as intimidated of Tom as he'd been when he was sixteen, but he still knew that Tom could kick his ass in a second. He got up off the old couch he'd been sitting on and turned to Speed. "I _told_ you not to tell Karma."

Speed gave Jamie an apologetic shrug. "Oops."

With an eye roll, Jamie headed up the stairs and Tom followed. Taking his time, Jamie poured himself a cup of coffee before admitting, "I found out today when she moved her stuff back in."

Tom nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've talked to her."

"Yeah," Jamie said slowly. "So have you."

"She told you about the funeral," he noted.

Jamie waited a few beats before asking, "Why are you here, Tom? There's nothing I can tell you. I know she's back, but come on. I'm with Zeppelin now. The curtain's pulling back on act 300 of the Jude and Tommy Show."

Tom sighed. "No, it's not."  
Jamie just laughed. "Yeah. I've heard that before. You and Jude can say whatever you want, but it's not over."

"She said that?" Tom demanded. "That it was over?"

"Well, yeah," Jamie shrugged. "But she said that the last time you broke up. And the time before that, and the time before that." He shook his head. "Honestly, I thought you two would grow out of it by now. But I guess you just can't."

Tom looked at Jamie. He's known Jude her whole life. It had been inevitable that he'd fall in love with her. The problem with Jamie was that he'd always had awful timing. When he'd finally gotten the courage to tell Jude he had feeling for her, she and Tommy had just made a connection, writing "24 Hours" together. They'd dated while Jude was on tour, and while she was getting pressure about her new album from Darius. Who could save her from that but Tommy? And when Tom had finally gotten his act together and told Jude that he was ready, Jamie had said the same. Of course Jude would choose Tommy. After that, Jamie had no other choice but to "grow out of it." To be honest, Jamie and Jude wouldn't have been any good together anyway, because she just didn't feel that way about him. Jamie and Zeppelin were both much better matched, what with the both of them lacking some social skills. But Tom didn't doubt that it must have sucked to have to get over Jude. He just didn't understand why everyone else around him, Shay, Jude's first boyfriend and Darius' nephew, Jamie, and Speed could all do it, and Tom couldn't.

"I don't know," he finally sighed.

Jamie raised his eyebrows. "She's probably home right now, if you wanted to say hi," he pointed out with a shrug.

Tom shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't think so," he said.

Jamie just nodded slowly. "Well then…I should get back to work."

"Right," Tom agreed. "Later."

Getting into his Camero, he mulled over the situation. He thought that he and Jude had left things off on a good note when she'd left New Brunswick. Maybe they'd finally achieved the closure that he'd heard so much about. He just needed to think of a way to get Jude to not come back to G Major. Not like it should have been that hard. Jude had hated G Major once Darius took over. He wasn't even sure why she was considering it now. So overall, he figured it would be pretty easy to talk her out of it. But that also involved talking to her, and that wasn't something that Tom was looking forward to…or maybe he was looking forward to it too much…With a sigh he realized that Jamie was right. The curtain was up on The Jude and Tommy Show, and he was starring in it, whether he wanted to or not.


	8. Chapter 8

Tom entered the G-Major offices with a scowl on his face for the second time that day. He grabbed a water bottle out of the mini-fridge, furiously twisting the cap off. Without knowing it, Tom had been squeezing the water bottle so hard that when the cap came off, water shot onto his chest, soaking his shirt. "Damn it," he swore, shaking his head. He looked ridiculous and wet. Tom took a few sips of water before heading for the locker room. G-Major had a gym, but Tom rarely used it anymore. He did, however, usually keep a spare change of clothes handy, just in case he should be struck by the sudden urge to exercise. That had yet to happen.

"Oh, Tommy," Karma stopped him on his way, looking like she'd just run a few miles on the treadmill herself. "Darius told me to tell you that he was looking for you."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm assuming it's about…" he trailed off.

Karma nodded. "The J-word."

"Of course," Tom sighed.

Frowning, Karma asked, "What happened to your shirt?"

Without answering her, Tom made for the locker room, changing into an old sweatshirt that he'd had for at least ten years. He remembered that it was the same one he'd been wearing when Jude had written some pretty embarrassing things about him on the internet. He'd found a blog post of hers about his love Mangella hair product, and he'd been _furious_. That was back when Megan and Jude were getting really close. Megan had seemed pretty normal back then, and she'd had really good ideas about Jude's music. Tom hated to admit it, but the song that she and Jude had written was definitely one of Jude's best. Shivering, Tom entered Darius' office. "What's up?"

Darius crossed his hands behind his head. "So you've heard."

"Yeah. Thanks for telling me, by the way."

He let out a deep chuckle. "_Me_ tell you? And be the one to open up that can of worms? Thanks, but no thanks."

"I just didn't understand it," Tom admitted. "Why would Jude come back to G-Major?"

Darius shrugged. "Maybe she just wants to come back to the guy who made it all possible."

Tom gave him a flat look. "Georgia and E.J. made it all possible," he recalled the two previous owners of G-Major. "You controlled her for three years."

"Oh, come on, that's not true." Darius paused. "Or maybe you're right," he said with a sly grin. "But Jude knows that she wouldn't be half the star that she is now without G-Major. Now that her contract across the pond is up, Jude's ready to come back to Papa D."

Raising an eyebrow, Tom asked, "What're you giving her?"

Darius gave Tom a frustrated look. "Had to give the girl complete creative control. And obviously a few extra zeros on the paycheck."

"That's it?" Tom asked.

"It? Complete creative control, Tom. That means she could sing Old Macdonald on a loop for twelve tracks, call it art, and I'd have to back it," Darius pointed out. "It's a lot." He shook his head. "Your girl's a pretty hard bargainer. Like to think she got some of those business skills from me," he added. Then, as if he'd completely forgotten all about it, he said, "And oh yeah, there was another condition that was a non-negotiable for Jude."

Tom shrugged. "What?" Darius just stared at Tom. It took a few seconds for Tom to realize what he meant. "Darius! You told her I'd produce her?" he asked angrily.

"Jude wanted her award-winning producer back, and I couldn't say no," Darius shrugged.

"So you said yes?" Tom asked.

Darius let out a dark chuckle. "No way. You kidding? I told her to ask you."

"Darius!" Tom exclaimed, furious.

"What? I thought you'd want to work with Jude again. The two of you is like magic or something. I don't know what it is, but you two are a music-making powerhouse."

Tom shook his head. "I won't do it."

Darius raised his eyebrows. "You think so?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Tom nodded. "There's no way that Jude's coming back to G Major, and if she does, I'm definitely not going to work with her."

Darius just chuckled again. "That's cute Tommy, really, but you must have forgotten that I'm your boss. And I say that you're working with Jude."

Tom knew that he shouldn't have been surprised that Darius would stoop so low. "Fuck you," he said, knowing that there really wasn't anything else that he could do or say. The situation wouldn't change – he still worked for G Major and Darius was still his boss. For the past several years, Tom had cursed Darius out, jumping through hoops to get a little bit of clout from the media mogul. But the truth was that 99% of the time, his efforts paid off. G Major was a good gig, Tom knew that, and so did Darius. Long ago had the days ended where Darius would give an inch for fear that Tom would sign with another label. But now he knew he didn't have to worry, so he did stupid shit like this.

Opening the door to the studio and sitting down behind the control panel, Tom rested his forehead in the heals of his hands. He couldn't work with Jude again. Whatever magic they'd had that Darius was talking about, they'd lost it. Their relationship simply wasn't like that anymore, he was sure of it. Without that, they would never be able to make good music. With a bitter chuckle Tom realized that the only time he and Jude had been able to make worthy music together was when they were either high off of their passion for one another, or both of them had plunged into a deep rage or depression over their latest fight. If they had a lukewarm friendship, the music would be bland, and boring, and Tom wouldn't want to put his name on something like that.

He took a deep breath. He couldn't work with Jude, and she couldn't work with him. What was more, was that he didn't trust Darius at all, not even for a second. He was just going to have to try and convince Jude that she shouldn't come back to G Major …which he assumed meant that he'd have to actually have a conversation with her. Tom rested his head down on the soundboard and let out a groan. Just when he was getting used to his life being Jude- and therefore drama-less…He should have known it wouldn't last.


End file.
